Advice About Girls
by Bittersweet Romanticide
Summary: Ash wasn't asking Brock for advice on girls, oh no. He was asking for advice about girls, which was entirely different. It was only out of curiosity that he inquired, "What's the perfect girl?" Hints of AAML


So…this is what I did on vacation. One of the things I did. I did quite a bit, actually, and though this isn't gut-busting hilarious I think it's a cute little read. I know, I know, the title sucks. I'm very sorry about that, but it's just a sweet little thing.

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**Advice About Girls**

Ash's closest thing to a father figure was Brock, which explained a lot.

Well, there was always Pikachu, though Pikachu was a pokémon and typically had logic and sense that worked much more efficiently than any human logic ever could. The downside to that, however, being that humans didn't much like pokémon logic. They had to complicate things, make them strange and hard to follow and not at all anything sensible. Ash understood this, preferred pokelogic, and was generally considered stupid for this very reason. He should have been a pokémon, really, but somewhere along the line his life had been screwed with and he was human and the Chosen One but left without a single father figure, which simply would not do.

Since Ash's father had spent the past few years doing something (whether it be working, pokémon training, writing pokémon poetry, running a ground type gym or being dead is plenty debatable) the boy didn't have much guidance on anything. He just sort of stumbled into things and investigated until they tried to kill him, steal his Pikachu, or be his friend. He would have preferred it if everything tried to be his friend, but he supposed life wouldn't be as exciting if the other two options weren't available. He could do without _Option X_, however, because there was no good way to react to _Option X_.

_Option X _was arising because Ash was a turning into a young man. Now that he was getting a nice dose of hormones, his body was beginning to fill out like young boys' bodies often do, with muscles building a lot more noticeably and facial features changing quite quickly, not to mention into something decently attractive. Gary still had him beat, as did Brock in bishonen mode, but the master-to-be would be a nice addition to any cougar's den, and more and more females (and a small percentage of males, truth be told) were noticing and acting in a very _Option X-_like way.

Other than frisky pokémon, Ash had never experienced _Option X _and was developing quite a fear of the unknown (and not the pokémon kind).

So, like a baby elephant will rush to its mother and deposit things that may or may not be food into her mouth for testing, Ash would sit down with Brock 'round the campfire (alone, he assured himself) and the two sat awkwardly in silence, both knowing there was something to talk about but neither really wanting to be the one to break the ice. This was how serious conversations generally started. It was nice to start them this way, because you could follow the smoke up to the trees, to the sky, and lose yourself in those balls of burning light.

"Brock," Ash finally said, "you made a great dinner tonight."

If the girl had been present (and awake) she probably would have wondered very loudly about why boys didn't have very deep conversations. This would be because, in teenager terms, chicks like gossip and guys like facts, though there's a much more complicated way to explain it, and it's much less sexist sounding if fully explained, but that's basically what it boils down to and it's why girls are often convinced boys can't talk about their feelings. They can. They'd just rather make it sound like a sports game than a soap opera, so girls tend to be baffled how conversations can be so oversimplified.

"Thanks." Brock nodded a brief short nod and they lapsed into silence again, but a much _shorter_ silence as he piped up again, "Wasn't there something you wanted to talk about? I thought you said something earlier. You didn't want to say anything around Misty."

The younger boy nodded, focusing intently on the stars above. "Uh, yeah. Yeah, I did want to talk. I mean, if you don't want to or you're busy or something, that's fine."

"What would I be busy doing? We're out in the woods, miles from civilization, late at night. It's not like there's any girls out here."

"'Cept for Misty," Ash said, eyes flicking over to the snoring red head.

Quite a while ago, she had begged a weekend form her sisters to travel to Pallet with them, saying she would take a bus home so she wouldn't be gone too long. There she had asked for another week until they left. Then she had asked for a month, just to check out the chocolate that was supposed to be so special to the new region. The next month she forgot to call. One month more and it had become obvious she wasn't going back.

"Except for Misty," he amended. "So let's talk."

There was a long sigh, and Ash dropped his head to the dying fire, still refusing to look at the other. "I don't really know how to ask this. I mean, I can't even get it to sound right in my head. It sounds like…I'm not asking for advice on girls. It's just that what I'm asking is about girls, but I don't want advice on girls. D'you get it?"

"Yes," Brock said, and he wasn't exactly lying. Although he had no idea what Ash thought he meant, he knew that Ash had finally come to him for girl advice. He had always known it would just be a matter of time. Even the Chosen One could not escape the horrors of puberty. "So, what'd you want to ask about girls?"

"What's the perfect girl?" Ash blurted hardly even giving Brock the chance to finish his question.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean the perfect girl, the kind of girl that you're supposed to fall in love with and put pictures on your wall and sing about like they do in the movies."

Brock debated for a while whether or not to tell Ash the world typically didn't work that way and he himself was a special case. Most men didn't dance or sing or endlessly praise a girl when they liked her. They just talked about her for a long time, walked up to her and stuttered out a date request (which was typically answered with a "no" unless you were lucky or cute). He decided that he really didn't have the heart to tell the poor boy.

Instead, he thought up a plot, smirked to himself, and began, "Well, for starters, I guess she would have big blue eyes."

There was an awkward pause and Ash asked, "But they don't have to be _completely _blue, right? They could be greenish…or more green than blue sometimes, right?"

And Ash had fallen right into the beautiful trap Brock had laid out, come with a nervous, eager, gait that gave the mighty hunter a rush. "Sure, Ash, green's alright, but you have to have the blue in there somewhere. Sea green's a nice color, the blue and green mix together pretty well, right?"

Ash's face had gotten just a bit dreamy and he agreed, "Yeah, it is. What about the hair?"

"Oh, definitely blonde."

The boy frowned a bit, as if Brock had reached up and popped his dream bubble, and retorted, "Only blonde?"

"Well, this is a first crush, Ash, it has to be special. It's the perfect girl, after all. Brown hair isn't all that-"

"What about red air?" Ash asked swiftly, then swallowed and tried to cover up his words, "or white hair or blue or green hair or something pretty rare?"

"Those are alright, but it can't be dyed. That takes away the magic, you see." It was quite obvious by his face that Ash didn't see, not at all, but the older boy continued on his merry way, "She should be well endowed too! The bigger the better, I always say."

"Bigger what?"

"Breasts, Ash, what else?"

"I'm only fifteen! Why would I look at those?" Ash yelped in a voice that sounded like he didn't exactly know _why _he was looking, but he definitely knew that he was. "And…and isn't it wrong to judge a girl based on that?"

"First crush has to be special," Brock chimed, enjoying himself more than he should have. "Narrow waist, hour glass figure kind of girl."

"I guess there's nothing wrong with that," he agreed awkwardly. "But, I mean, does it have to be an hourglass? There's not a girl…not a lot of girls have that. Hour glass figures are really rare, you know, like shiny pokémon and they're supposed to be unhealthy too and…and what if you can't tell what kind of figure she has? Not a lot of clothes really show that kind of stuff anymore. It's mostly just-"

"Cleavage," Brock finished for him. "The kind of girl you have a first crush on would wear the kind of clothes so you could tell. Maybe even belly shirts so you could see her nice, smooth stomach. Nice pants so you can see her legs, long legs."

Ash nodded, as if memorizing all the information for future use. "But what about her personality?"

"Long nails too, probably red-"

"Brock? What about-?"

"Her ears should be pierced, and she keeps up with all the latest fashions, and looks good in them."

"Brock?" he insisted, finally looking at the boy. He did a quick wave of his hand in front of the rambling boy's face. "C'mon, snap out of it."

"Sexy too."

"Brock!" Ash snapped, hitting the boy's shoulder and yanking him out of his fantasy. "I got was she looks like, but what is she supposed to act like?"

He blinked, realizing he had a mission to complete and could not continue to fantasize the perfect woman until later. "Um, right, well, she can be smart, like a teacher or a librarian or something, but it's not required. She has to be really nice too, and angel sent from above."

"Nobody's nice all the time," Ash argued. "And nice could mean anything depending on who it is. With some people, being nice is just them _not _hurting you, and some people them being nice is them being really creepily nice, like the ladies in the black and white TV shows who wouldn't stop smiling even if you told them someone had just killed their kids."

"Always nice, ordinary nice, all the time. Never rude or loud or stubborn, just a sweet girl." Which was all fine and dandy to say, all part of the mission, and the furious expression on Ash's face was worth every rock pokémon in the world. He had to continue, however, before Ash did his typically good guy rant about how it's the inside that matters, and people were all different and special just like pokémon: "Maybe she has a southern accent."

"Personality, Brock, accents don't count."

"Right, well, there's the big three – cooks, cleans, kids, and she had to be good with all of them. Good food, clean house, and is great with kids. The kind of girl who pulls her own weight and does her part," Brock said, though, now, much like Ash, he couldn't help but think of the mothers in the old black and white television shows who seemed as concerned about the taste of their cherry pie as their children's lives.

"But if you cook and clean and raise the kids, Brock, why does she need too?"

"This is only a crush, Ash. It's nearly always illogical." He began tapping his chin in thought. "What else, though? Are you old enough for me to say she should be great in bed?"

"Brock, that's gross!" he complained.

He waved off the boy's innocence with a roll of his eyes. "Obviously not. Ah, well, you'll appreciate it one day."

"Yeah, when I find the perfect girl."

He nodded solemnly. "Mmm, or when you find the right one."

Here was where the final trick came into play. The news of there being not only a perfect girl, but a right one as well, seemed to have given him quite a jolt. His back straightened, eyes blinking quickly as though the fire's smoke had blown into his eyes. "Aren't they the same thing?"

"The same thing? Not at all! Ash, the perfect girl and your right girl are usually nothing alike. No one could stand the perfect girl for too long after all, she's usually not the marrying type. She'd get annoying. You'd have to be the type to really look and learn about examine someone to remind yourself they're a real person. That, or you would have to be the perfect guy and the two of your could be perfect together forever. The right girl could be anyone though."

Another awkward pause for it, and Brock mentally begged Ash to ask the question he knew he would. They curious boy simply wouldn't be able to help himself. And he did. With a tentative, "Anyone?" Ash opened himself for the final blow, and the real reason he was up for a chat, the reason why the redhead couldn't be around when they had it, the reason why they were having it now.

"Anyone. Even Misty," Brock snickered, smiling slyly as the capped lad tensed. "Was there something else you wanted to talk about?"

"Night, Brock!" he cried, rushing to his sleeping bag.

Brock chuckled his goodnight, kicking out the fire and sliding into his own bag, and the night resumed. Nothing changed in the big scheme of things. Pikachu went on snoring, creatures went on hooting and buzzing and chirping, the stars went on shining, and the smoke from the embers kept twisting up and vanishing into the night. However, tiny things changed. Ash began to think that having a crush, even if on a girl most normally didn't have a crush on, wasn't too insane. Brock felt he had achieved his first step in giving Ash girl advice.

…And Misty learned that she really _had _mastered the fake snore.

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Cute, isn't it? :D Maybe. I dunno. I guess I'll find out when the flames start rolling in!


End file.
